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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25783930">Last Call At The Ship Inn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka'>mansikka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV), Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019), Shadowhunters (TV), Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All The Ships, Crack, M/M, POV Multiple, Soulmates, Spells &amp; Enchantments</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:08:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25783930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><hr/>
<p>Life lessons for Alec Lightwood-Bane: never leave your bored warlock husband alone with a dusty old spellbook. You never know what mischief he might get into - or who might be dragged into that trouble with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobytheWise/gifts">TobytheWise</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieselfh/gifts">lieselfh</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!</p>
<p>Okay, so, here's a thing, and I don't really know what it is, but it's here now; make of it what you will. Please don't expect a lot of sense or logic because that is not what this is about!</p>
<p>This is a multiship escapade that has POVs from the following ships:<br/>Malec (Shadowhunters),<br/>Malex (Roswell NM),<br/>Buddie (911),<br/>and Destiel (Supernatural).</p>
<p>There is a minor cameo by the lovely Nicky and Joe (The Old Guard).</p>
<p>There is a blink and you'll miss it mention of Symbrock (Venom).</p>
<p>And if you look really quick, you might see a brief wink from Mulder and Scully (The X Files) as well.</p>
<p>I've tagged the four main ships so that should hopefully help people filtering. If any of the ships listed above are not your ships then this is not a story for you, and to be honest, I don't know who this story is actually for, aside from me. And Toby and Lieselfh, of course, because who else puts up with my weirdness quite like they do?</p>
<p>Also, there is a suggestion that Alec will choose to become immortal in the future. So if you don't like that either, this isn't a story you'll like. </p>
<p>Anyway. There's a bar. There's a thing that happens to bring people from all over the place into said bar. Eventually, they get to leave again. That's the entire story, right there.</p>
<p>I haven't written Destiel for about 17,000 years so I have no idea how they sound these days. I haven't written Malex for... months? A year? I don't remember. All these characters are living happily in my imagination so are playing nicely and lovingly away from canon and other stuff.</p>
<p>And... that's it! Um. Happy reading?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Eddie</strong>
</p><p>Buck is in his shower. It isn't the first time. It probably won't be the last time. Yet thinking about it still makes Eddie's skin feel all tingly, stretched out too thin, and hot. Which is also not a new feeling when Buck so much as has a shirt off and Eddie knows about it. He tries to keep himself busy to distract himself, searching for something to make for lunch. Eddie pinches the hem of his t-shirt to waft against his stomach for some air because he really is melting out here. From his own shower, for Buck being most likely naked a few feet from him, from their morning spent hiking in the blistering heat; there are many reasons, really, for this heat. Eddie shouldn't be as flustered as he is.</p><p>"You see that?" Buck asks, which has Eddie ducking around the kitchen doorway to see what he is looking at. He hadn't even heard him open the bathroom door. Buck has the front door open and is half outside; Eddie turns off the stove and joins him, watching a swirling dust formation building right next to his truck. It's like a mini-tornado, though less violent. Eddie fears for his paintwork. "I saw it from the window."</p><p>"Is that... normal for here?" Eddie asks. He's been in L.A. a couple of years now, though the city is continuing to surprise him; especially with its weather.</p><p>Buck is putting on his shoes. Is he planning on taking a closer look? "Not since I've been here."</p><p>"You think it'll get worse? Bigger? This is kind of your area of expertise."</p><p>Buck grins at him, pretending to sulk for being teased. Though his eyes then flare wide as he stumbles backward like he is being dragged, snagging Eddie's fingers as he goes. Eddie stumbles forward, the two of them falling into that whirling dust, a sinking sensation hitting Eddie's stomach as the world rushes by.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>Michael loves cars like this, ones that are pure puzzle and endless faults that he can put back together and make work again. Under the heat of the Roswell sun with six cars already fixed before lunch, Michael knows if he wasn't about to have company, he could work on this thing for hours. Though the sound of an approaching car has him smiling, tossing the wrench he's holding, and even quickly yanking his t-shirt off to put a cleaner one on. One-thirty, on the dot, as promised. No car can hold his attention now.</p><p>His smile is wider still when Alex pulls up, cuts his engine, and climbs out of his car looking unfairly beautiful. Is it any wonder Michael's brain dries up of all other thoughts?</p><p>"Hi," Alex says, sagging into Michael's embrace as he takes him by the waist and pulls him closer.</p><p>"Hi." Michael has learned to savor Alex, to appreciate every moment they have together, in ways he took for granted for so long. So he drops his forehead against Alex's and sneaks his thumbs beneath his shirt, letting his breathing even out so it is matching Alex's. Alex is calm and steady against him, soft and settled in his bones in ways he only learned to be recently. It's a good look on him, Michael's favorite yet. And he'll get to see it for the rest of their lives. Isn't that something?</p><p>"I bought ham and cheese. Those little Danish things you like. And root beer."</p><p>"Root beer?" Michael says, claiming a quick kiss that he loses himself in like he always does.</p><p>"I wanted root beer."</p><p>"Then we'll have root beer," Michael agrees, loving how Alex pretends to pout. He slots his fingers through Alex's and tugs, opening out the chairs he keeps stored away and clean for whenever Alex visits him for lunch. Which is often. Michael loves the freedom Alex now has for working for himself, and from home.</p><p>Over lunch, they talk about dinner plans with Isobel, and a card game night with Kyle and Greg that they're having on the weekend. This is their life now; family, and friends, and <em>easy</em>. It's hard sometimes to remember the struggle they had to get here, but Michael won't let himself forget entirely. There is no way he will ever go back to the way they used to be.</p><p>They are just tidying up after lunch, distracted by kisses as always, and smiling at each other enough to make their faces hurt, when the wind gusts up around them in a whirl that has Michael stumbling back. He grabs for Alex so he doesn't fall altogether, a curse on his lips as the two of them are sucked forward, and everything rushes by them.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Dean</strong>
</p><p>"Cas. What's that?" Dean asks, as a whirl of dust forms out of nowhere in front of them, seeming to park itself in front of the Impala and stop, spinning there.</p><p>They just finished a job. He and Cas are bunker bound. Dean can almost taste the burger and fries he's promised himself at a new favorite diner about ten miles out from the bunker and is toying between either onion rings or buffalo wings as a side. They've earned it. No damned freak weather is going to get between him and his food.</p><p>"I do not know." Cas is glaring at the whirling dust, whatever it is, deep and suspicious. It isn't a look that Dean enjoys.</p><p>"You think we can drive around it?"</p><p>Cas doesn't answer. If even Cas is confused, Dean doesn't know whether he should take his chances. But something drags him from the car anyway, and something pulls Cas out as well, the two of them sucked into the middle of that swirling dust and watching the Impala disappear from view.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Buck</strong>
</p><p>"Maybe we should ask something. Someone. Ask someone, something," Buck says, wrestling with his words. The Ship Inn, the bar they've found themselves in, is busy. It's not quite a dive bar, though is also not somewhere Buck would want to find himself in unless already steamingly drunk. And he feels kind of that, but also not so. Who knows what's going on?</p><p>"You think anyone here has any more clue what's going on than we do?" Eddie replies. He doesn't look like he is in a hurry to leave either, even if his gaze keeps drifting around them like he is trying to latch onto something that makes sense.</p><p>This is the weirdest feeling. They should be doing something, or going somewhere. All Buck can really think of is getting a second beer. Though when did he even finish his first? Or order it?</p><p>"What about Trenchcoat?"</p><p>"Who's Trenchcoat?" Eddie asks, following Buck's gaze to the table two across from them when he nods. Buck doesn't even know why he picked him. His eyes just landed on the trenchcoat the man is still wearing despite sitting down, and here he is. Staring. Expecting some stranger to have all the answers for him. Or at least, some idea.</p><p>"I don't know what his deal is. Picks at his food, mumbles under his breath; I can't be sure, but I think he's planning murder. Only word I ever really pick out is <em>Dean</em>, and it's always accompanied by the biggest heart eyes you've ever seen. I'm guessing that's the guy he's with."</p><p>Have they really been here long enough for him to be noticing the other patrons of this bar? Buck doesn't know. Buck doesn't know anything. One minute he was in Eddie's bathroom hurrying to dress because he knows better than to leave Eddie alone with making lunch. And the next he and Eddie are toppling backward on to his front yard. Through it. Into something tunnel-like and spinning, only to be spat out on the other side of it here. In this bar.</p><p>He's been to worse places. Though given the circumstances, shouldn't they have already left? Buck doesn't even feel the need to, which is the most disturbing thing. Or should be. His limbs are pleasantly floaty-feeling, and Eddie looks so relaxed Buck hasn't the desire to move.</p><p>"Heart eyes? Like, your face when we get cheesecake at the station?" Eddie teases, and Buck loves it.</p><p>"Like, your face when you look at me?" Buck retorts, freezes, and then thinks, fuck it. Today is enough of a messed up day for him to be honest and not care about the fallout. That can come tomorrow. Maybe even the next day.</p><p>Eddie freezes too, though it soon morphs into a slow-growing smile that Buck feels himself mirroring. He might yelp in surprise when Eddie takes his hand, earning him that crinkly-eyed look that is his favorite on him. "I think you'll find they're puppy eyes."</p><p>Buck vigorously shakes his head. "No. Those look very different."</p><p>"Oh? So you're telling me I have both?"</p><p>"You have a whole range of eyes, Eddie. But, yeah; puppy eyes are the looks you give me when I cook you dinner."</p><p>"You make really good food."</p><p>"One of us needs to." Buck is still bracing for Eddie to realize how close they're sitting; even more than usual, legs pressed together like they don't know how to be alone. And he's still waiting for the penny to drop for Eddie about what some of this conversation has implied. Buck is not expecting the sweetest of kisses across the table like he is something delicate. Buck is not delicate. He would happily let Eddie pin him up against one of these bar walls. Even the grotty ones. But he also can't stop grinning right now, so the urge to return that kiss with a little more fervor might have to wait a little.</p><p>"We'll talk about this. As soon as we get out of all this," Eddie adds in a soft voice close to his ear, before gesturing around them.</p><p>Buck's feeling brave. Maybe he's feeling dangerous. Who knows? It's enough to give him the courage to press a long kiss to Eddie's temple, before drawing back to catch how hard he is smiling for it.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p><p>Michael is drunk. He must be. Really, really drunk and about to give himself the biggest hangover he's ever had. It's like that night when he'd thought he'd lost Alex for the last time, when he'd drank six bottles of acetone straight and woke up cradling a pizza to his chest. To this day, Michael doesn't have a clue how the pizza got there, and not one of his friends or family is owning up to fetching it for him. Should he worry he drove drunk to some crummy pizza place in the middle of nowhere? Probably. Right now he doesn't really care.</p><p>Alex might as well be wearing a halo. There is this glow about him like he's just bathed in golden glitter, and his smile might be the biggest Michael has ever seen. And that smile is all for him. How about that, universe, making him the luckiest alien to ever land on this damn rock?</p><p>"So. You're an alien. I'm a veteran. We've literally seen people brought back to life, and you can move things just with your thoughts."</p><p>Michael lets his eyes fall on Alex's top shirt button, plucking it open without moving to prove Alex's point. He loves this shirt on Alex, a rich blue color that is so soft to the touch. He also likes Alex out of this shirt. And getting Alex out of this shirt. He just likes all of it a lot, okay? "Uh. Yeah, Alex. We've seen some weird."</p><p>"Not like this, though," Alex says, stage whispering and sort of discreetly looking around them. He's right. How the hell did they get into this bar?</p><hr/>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Dean</strong>
</p>
<p>Great. Another dimension. Are there dinosaurs in this one, Dean asks mostly of himself. At least there are people around them, regular looking people. No shapeshifters, werewolves, things with fangs, or Croatoan. Not even Death.</p>
<p>The newspaper Cas is correcting all the clues for the crossword displays today's date, in that, it's the date Dean thinks it should be. Or should it? How would he know? Dean is tired of the world and all its oddities. He's tired of a lot of things, actually, when he could be back at the bunker and in his bed. With that burger he promised himself earlier. Preferably with Cas. Couldn't they have had just one night off?</p>
<p>"You think anyone else around here knows what's going on?" Dean asks Cas' bent head. Cas is slow to look up, still threatening to smite the life out of the crossword writer, his face only softening when Dean squeezes his knee beneath the table.</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Do you know what's happening here?"</p>
<p>"I do not."</p>
<p>"Do you... recognize anything? See something unusual that I don't? Anything?"</p>
<p>Cas gives his best put upon sigh that Dean will forever blame Sam for, tapping his thumb on the back of Dean's hand before he draws it back. He turns his head slowly, in the way that always makes Dean wonder if he's an actual marble angel statue come to life. Like in Doctor Who. Only speedier, and less life-sucking. Obviously with some sucking. Which is a thought for another time.</p>
<p>Gone are the days Cas would scowl at him for such a thought process. Dean gets a pinch to his inner thigh instead. Which is so much better. Dean is a helpless mess when Cas turns his focus back to him, and even more so when he breaks into a smile.</p>
<p>"There are beings here that should not be here."</p>
<p>"Shouldn't as in... we need to get ganking?"</p>
<p>"Dean. Not everything that is not human needs to be <em>ganked</em>."</p>
<p>That Cas scrunches his nose up and lets the word slither from his tongue in distaste will forever be hilarious to Dean. It's why he keeps prodding him.</p>
<p>"Then, if they're beings that shouldn't be here, but are here, but they're not all human, what are we looking at, here? And why are <em>we</em> here?"</p>
<p>Cas sits up straight, drawing in a slow breath as he looks around again. He needs to get better at discretion, but all these years in, Dean doesn't think it'll happen. He kind of loves him even more for it, which earns him a flicker of a smile.</p>
<p>"There is at least one alien in this room."</p>
<p>"Only one?"</p>
<p>"At least."</p>
<p>"Okay. What else? Who? <em>Who</em> else?" Dean amends when Cas gives him a look of disapproval. Dean loves that too, just in case anyone might take his rambling thoughts as a complaint about the love of his life.</p>
<p>Cas does the head tilt thing which honestly should never be as endearing as it is, but it is. His eyes become round and wide, and an unexpected huff blasts from his mouth. "There is a Nephilim."</p>
<p>"An actual, whole ass Nephilim?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Do we kill it? Run from it? Wait for them to start yet another damn apocalypse?" Dean asks, thinking, <em>no</em>, they don't need those bastards interfering again.</p>
<p>"This one is a warrior," Cas says, blatantly pointing at a tall, beautiful man with really obnoxious tattoos up his forearms and over his neck.</p>
<p>"So? We've dealt with worse." They haven't, but it's the kind of bravado Dean thinks he's earned the right to let himself pretend he has.</p>
<p>"Dean. Does that Nephilim appear to be a threat?"</p>
<p>Marginally more discreet than Cas' efforts, Dean looks at where he's pointing, and can't help chuckle. This threatening Nephilim is a puddle of goo, grinning at a very decorative man in between kissing him. He seems to be comforting him, the other man looking about ready to burst with fury at something. And Dean can only really see him in profile; who knows how mad he must be?</p>
<p>"Uh, no. No threat," Dean agrees, surprised when Cas takes both his hands to hold against the table. He is often open in his affection these days, though there is a glint in Cas' eyes which is more than affection. "What?"</p>
<p>Slowly, so there can be no way for Dean to miss his intention, Cas gives the Nephilim a look of appraisal before fixing Dean with his most intense stare. The corners of his mouth twitch up in his need to smile. Dean's stomach flips, newly flustered at Cas' attempts to tease.</p>
<p>"You find the Nephilim attractive."</p>
<p>"What? No, I don't. Cas—"</p>
<p>Dean trips over his words for Cas' triumphant smile, slipping a hand from his grip to work at the back of his neck. Why is it so warm in here?</p>
<p>"You do. You are fascinated."</p>
<p>"I don't know if I'd call it <em>fascinated</em>."</p>
<p>"Intrigued."</p>
<p>"I'm not <em>intrigued</em>. He's not a specimen in a petri dish, Cas," Dean blurts out, making Cas smile all the more.</p>
<p>"Then, interested."</p>
<p>"Cas, no. I'm not <em>interested</em>. I was just... looking."</p>
<p>"<em>Looking</em>."</p>
<p>"I was curious, okay?" Why is he falling over his words to explain himself?</p>
<p>Cas kisses him, blatantly and openly, and maybe even with a hint of possession. Which should not be as hot as Dean thinks it is. Though for Cas claiming all of his attention, Dean thinks he might forget what a <em>Nephilim</em> even is.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Magnus</strong>
</p>
<p>"This is my fault," Magnus says again, because it is his fault, and not saying it won't change anything now.</p>
<p>Alec cups his face, that big warm hand that Magnus has happily sunk into in all kinds of ways taking the edge off his self-flagellation. "Magnus. We'll fix this. Okay? We will."</p>
<p>Magnus knows better than to be experimenting with those boxes of Downworlder items confiscated by The Clave. He should have stopped himself from even cracking open one solitary book. It's just that there was an entire cellar filled with things looted and stolen from Downworlders, discovered when Alec as new Consulate insisted on going through every last storeroom in The Clave's buildings. Magnus had always suspected Downworlder wealth was being accumulated somewhere, but he hadn't imagined anything like this. What a fool he is.</p>
<p>So, here they are. In a place he doesn't recognize that is of this world, or might even be in this world, like a separate pocket in the same time. There are all kinds of people Magnus has dragged from the comfort of their homes, most likely, through this experimental portal of his. No one here can blame him, of course, because they don't even know he is responsible for their disappearance. Or appearance; is it really a disappearance when they only disappeared from somewhere else and just appeared here? Wherever here is?</p>
<p>"Magnus," Alec says, with that tone of amusement that says <em>stop thinking so hard</em> without ever being said out loud. Magnus sighs, letting his eyes fall closed as Alec kisses him on the forehead then pulls him into a deep hug. Magnus lets himself sag, forever grateful that he has Alec to cling on to; both for practical reasons and because he's just so damn pretty. Which he might say out loud just then knowing it will make Alec pull back from him and grin in complaint, the sparkle in his eyes making Magnus feel less pathetic about everything. Because Alec is right. They will get through this. Just as soon as they figure out what <em>this</em> is.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Alex</strong>
</p>
<p>"That guy at the bar keeps staring at you," Alex points out when Michael gets back from using the bathroom. The man is in a New York Knicks t-shirt, so is pretty far from home. Or is he? How would Alex know? They still haven't figured out where <em>here</em> is yet. They haven't even bothered to try.</p>
<p>The man staring at Michael like he's found Christmas is accompanied by a stunning red-haired woman who is staring at the man fondly while rolling her eyes. Alex watches her lean across their booth table and stroke hair from his forehead, which snaps his attention back. Alex ducks his head and smiles as the couple clasp hands, sure he'd be intruding a private moment somehow if he looked.</p>
<p>Michael shrugs, winking at Alex when he looks up. "So?"</p>
<p>"Nothing. It was just obvious he was staring, is all."</p>
<p>Michael grins, that slow, warm thing that always curls heat and want in Alex's stomach. He is helpless to it always. "Well. I already have the only person I want to be looking at right here with me, so, honestly, Alex? He can look all he likes."</p>
<p>How is Alex able to function around this kind of sap every day? It's like Michael is making up for that decade where they were something, but weren't anything, yet were hurting one another all the time. What else is he to do, aside from reach across their table avoiding the bowl of trail mix—with decidedly too much dried corn—and wrap his hands around Michael's as he leans over to kiss him?</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Eddie</strong>
</p>
<p>"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Eddie says, now not sure when either of them last ate. Probably at breakfast. He knows it's about seven now, but he also thinks it was about one o'clock when he last looked. He's just glad that, wherever this is, there is cell service, and that it's Carla's night with Christopher anyway. Besides, he and Buck now have a few things to talk about, and he needs to get this right. After food, obviously.</p>
<p>Buck leans back, patting his stomach like he is consulting it. He gives a sharp nod and plucks the menu from its holder on the table. "I don't know why, but I really, really want corn."</p>
<p>"Like, corn chips?"</p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Some kind of Dorito casserole?"</p>
<p>"What? No," Buck says in disgust. Eddie thinks from his expression that Buck is just trying to imagine all those textures at once and wanting to eject the idea from his mouth. "Corn on the cob. Corn, dripping in all that butter, that I'm probably gonna end up wearing all over my face if I eat it. All down my chin and everything."</p>
<p>Why Buck thinks that's a good thing, Eddie doesn't know, but he's grinning at him like he is the best thing that has ever happened to him. As if he could be that for Buck. He's going to try to be, at some point, when they're out of this mess. But in the meantime, Eddie will be happily distracted by Buck grinning at him over corn.</p>
<p>"Maybe corn on the cob can be our spaghetti."</p>
<p>"...there's corn on the cob made out of spaghetti? How does that work?"</p>
<p>"No," Eddie says, now sure he might erupt with how much he needs to laugh. "Like, Lady and the Tramp. With the spaghetti they share. No?"</p>
<p>Buck shakes his head, having no idea what he's talking about. Of course he doesn't. Eddie pictures a Disney movie marathon in their future, one where he can finally get his arm around Buck while sat on the couch.</p>
<p>"I'll get dinner," Eddie says then, quickly standing, and because he can touch him now, briefly cupping Buck's cheek. "Anything else you feel like?"</p>
<p>"Surprise me."</p>
<p>Buck looks so shocked to be kissed that Eddie has to turn away before he laughs. Surprise given, then. Eddie likes to think Buck enjoys the view of his retreating back as he goes to the bar to order, putting an extra sway in his hips just in case.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Cas</strong>
</p>
<p>"He is a warlock," Cas says as Dean continues to watch the couple at the bar of The Ship Inn. Cas can feel the happiness emanating from the Nephilim and is both surprised and not at all to feel something dark in his warlock companion. Though he is a good soul, this warlock, tortured for the possibility of all he could be while also finally learning to be happy with where he is in the world. It's because of this Nephilim. Cas feels like he is one of those Peeping Toms he's heard about, though the two of them aren't exactly subtle in their love.</p>
<p>"He's a what, now?"</p>
<p>"A warlock."</p>
<p>"Like, a male witch?"</p>
<p>Cas holds on to his frustration, only letting his affection for Dean win through. He knows Dean is toying with him, pretending to be dense when he is anything but. He traps Dean's knee between his own and watches him over his beer as he takes a gulp, smiling for how Dean's eyes become incredulous.</p>
<p>"You're not kidding."</p>
<p>"I am not."</p>
<p>"A real, actual warlock?" Dean hisses; now who is it who doesn't know how to be discreet?</p>
<p>"Yes. A powerful one. Very powerful."</p>
<p>"So, maybe he knows what's happening here?"</p>
<p>Cas watches the warlock, sure he can feel the exasperation he has for himself. It is hard to tell for sure all he is thinking; this warlock is so deeply in love that Cas knows the name of his beloved just from how his soul sings out his name. <em>Alexander</em>. Beautiful Alexander, who according to this warlock is fearless, and powerful, and gives him the entire world. Cas knows a little about how that feels, with his own warrior across the table from him.</p>
<p>While Cas senses nothing bad in either of them, he does know to be cautious. It has been a long while since Cas has been witness to anyone from the particular demonic hell that is Edom, and longer still that any from there has had any power over him. How else would he and Dean have been brought here? Lucifer might as well be an ice cream vendor in comparison to the power and cruelty of the ruler of Edom. Asmodeus, Cas thinks he is called, wondering if Asmodeus might be this warlock's father. This poses more questions than it provides answers, and makes Cas question just how cruel a Prince of Hell might really be.</p>
<p>"I think the warlock caused whatever it is that is happening here. Though, not intentionally," Cas adds, sure in his opinion.</p>
<p>"Well, do we talk to him?" Dean asks, even more openly gawping at the warlock and Nephilim now. Alexander. <em>Alec</em>. Cas likes that he at least has one of their names.</p>
<p>"Eventually. I think, for now, he and Alec, this Nephilim, are attempting to understand what they have done."</p>
<p>"So. We're here because of magic?" Dean asks like the thought has just occurred to him, pulling Cas' favorite thinking face as he sips at his beer.</p>
<p>"Yes. I think so."</p>
<p>"Well, that's a first for us, isn't it? I mean, it's not; Rowena for a start has got us into all kinds of hell with magic. And out of, obviously. But this is a whole other kind of magic, right?"</p>
<p>Cas thinks of Rowena, imagines her sizing this warlock up, and smiles for the idea of Alec glaring her down for daring to look at what is his. "Yes, it is," he agrees, belatedly answering Dean's question. He drains his beer and stands, ready to get them another, thinking they might be here for a while. Besides, at the bar, perhaps he can overhear the warlock and Nephilim's conversation better, and get a stronger understanding of what is going on.</p>
<p>"It's my turn," Dean says as he stands to join him, wrapping a hand loose at Cas' waist and drawing him in for a kiss. Cas sits back down, beaming to himself with pure smugness, watching as Dean makes his way to the bar.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Buck</strong>
</p>
<p>Somehow, and Buck doesn't really know how it happened, he and Eddie are leaned against a pool table, making out. He isn't complaining; Eddie pressing bodily against him and making all these happy noises against his mouth isn't anything Buck is ever going to object to now that he's had a taste. It is only that Buck can't quite remember how things went from him debuttering his fingers after his corn, to Eddie pressing him back and claiming him so openly with not a care for anyone who sees.</p>
<p>"Why didn't we do this sooner?" Eddie mumbles against his ear leaving Buck shivering, before he kisses him again. It doesn't matter. He doesn't have an answer for him anyway, far too busy learning the shape of Eddie's mouth against his own.</p>
<p>Buck doesn't know how they got here, or how they're getting back, or even how much time might have passed. And he doesn't mind, not a minute of it. Not for getting to have this. He doesn't even worry about it continuing at home.</p>
<p>Because today feels like one where anything goes, Buck slots his fingers into Eddie's back jean pockets and squeezes, shivering for Eddie's answering moan. The bathroom is far too revolting to drag him in there and take any of this further, but Buck is already imagining an entire day off where they spend the whole of it in bed.</p>
<p>"You, uh, mind if we play?"</p>
<p>Buck feels Eddie pause before his brain connects with him having to do the same, his throat clicking in disappointment when Eddie pulls back. Watching them is a couple; one blond-haired and green-eyed, the other darker haired with bright blue ones that are staring right through him. <em>Trenchcoat</em>.</p>
<p>"Uh. No," Eddie says, grabbing Buck by the waist and tugging him from leaning on the side of the pool table.</p>
<p>"Play with us, if you want," the blond one says. Buck knows a hustler when he sees one after all his time working in various bars through South America. Eddie apparently does too for the glint in his eye.</p>
<p>"Sure," Eddie says with an easy shrug after Buck nods.</p>
<p>"Awesome. I'm Dean. This is Cas."</p>
<p>"Eddie. Buck."</p>
<p>Introductions over, and hands shook, the table is set and their cues chalked up. Eddie winks at him, stealing Buck's concentration and leaving him thankful that Dean and Cas won the break.</p>
<hr/>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Michael</strong>
</p>
<p>"We could take off for a while. Take the Airstream, and just... drive somewhere?" Michael says, as he and Alex dance. The Ship Inn has a very small dance floor, music streaming from somewhere behind the scenes, and cheap alcohol. Why wouldn't they dance, when there is little else they can do right now to kill some time?</p>
<p>Alex tilts his head, considering his question. His eyes are less glassy than when they arrived. Michael is convinced everyone in this bar with them suffered a similar moment of disorientation, presenting itself as stone-cold drunk. Watching Alex's eyes crinkle with delight already gives Michael his answer to his suggestion before he even answers.</p>
<p>"I can work on the road."</p>
<p>"I can't, so much, but I can take off for a while. Sanders won't care."</p>
<p>"Sanders won't mind, is what I think you mean," Alex tells him. He's right. Sanders will in his own way fuss and bluster about Michael taking care of himself. He'll even miss him, send Michael emoji messages to decipher now that Michael has persuaded him to get a cell. Michael knows his job will be there for him when they get back to Roswell, so, why not travel? It would be good to hit the road for a while.</p>
<p>"Soon as we're back, we'll figure something out."</p>
<p>"A route up the coast."</p>
<p>"If that's what you want," Michael agrees, willing to give Alex anything he asks for.</p>
<p>"You, first, and always. But yes; a road trip sounds great. Perfect, even."</p>
<p>"As soon as we're back?"</p>
<p>"Soon as we're back."</p>
<p>Michael kisses him for it, losing himself in Alex as he has done for all the best parts of his life. He is his now, and because of the magic of actually speaking, Alex is his for good. Who would ever have thought talking would be the thing to solve so many problems?</p>
<p>Other couples are up and dancing beside them, Michael realizes, as his elbow grazes against a man to his left. The man barely notices, apparently serenading his boyfriend, husband, or whoever he might be to him, knowing all the words to this song playing that has to be from the 70s. His partner looks delighted, big blue eyes staring back at him full of all the love in the world. It is the face Michael knows he pulls at Alex purely because he is his to have, and is the look on Alex's face when he smiles at him now.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Alec</strong>
</p>
<p>"So, this thing. This book we opened, from the stores. Any idea what it is?" Alec asks, now that Magnus has calmed a little. The Martini he'd all but tipped into his mouth for him has helped some, and Alec knows Magnus feels better when he doesn't let go of him.</p>
<p>Alec blames himself in part. It might not be his fault that the Clave stored all these things belonging to Downworlders in the first place. But it is his fault he had to work later than he'd promised. A curious, bored Magnus left alone with new things to play with and no company to make him pause can be a lethal combination. Usually in the best kinds of ways. Not typically in ways like this. Though there have been some adventures since they moved to Alicante, and Alec does know better than to let his husband get too bored.</p>
<p>Magnus lets out a tiny sigh that sounds like all the fight has gone out of him, much like a deflated balloon. In a good way. If things go as they normally do, Magnus will stop cursing himself for tinkering any minute soon. "No. Only an old, ancient, unbelievably volatile spell that I should have known better than to start reading out. I was merely curious about the pronunciation," he adds when Alec fails to hide his smile.</p>
<p>"So, how old are we talking?"</p>
<p>"Old, old."</p>
<p>"Like, you old?"</p>
<p>"One day, Alexander, you too will be considered old. Very, very old."</p>
<p>"I will," Alec agrees, thinking of certain conversations about a very long future for the both of them and forgetting their current peril momentarily because of it. But he then clears his throat, drags his thoughts back here to this bar. Because Magnus needs him to be his anchor right now.</p>
<p>"And in answer to your question, I have no idea how old. Old enough for me to have respected it better."</p>
<p>"You couldn't have portaled us to a better bar?" Alec asks, deliberate in his intentions to distract Magnus from getting annoyed with himself again. Magnus first looks at him in reproach, and then around The Ship Inn in distaste.</p>
<p>"I suppose it's passably clean. Even if the lighting is appalling, and the tables should be sanded down and re-covered instead of the half-hearted attempts to clean them they normally have to endure. I fear what we might find in the bathroom should we visit."</p>
<p>"Well. Hopefully, we can portal back out of here before either of us needs to find out."</p>
<p>"It is interesting," Magnus says, patting his hand against Alec's chest as he looks around them.</p>
<p>"What is?"</p>
<p>"Look around. At the people here, that I have dragged away from whatever their existences might be."</p>
<p>Alec realizes most of them are Mundanes. Some are in uniforms, others in work out gear, and others still in business suits. One unfortunate couple only has towels to cover themselves with, and from the look of their hair stood on end slowly drying stiffly, were mid bath. Or shower.</p>
<p>In fact, the only person alone in the room is a disheveled looking man sat at a small round table by a window. He looks to be speaking to someone on one of those hands-free cell devices, judging by how he keeps smiling and shaking his head like he is mid-conversation. Alec would then swear that he sees the black device thing wiggle where it extends from his ear to the side of his face, but for Alec, it was a long day before he and Magnus even got here. The last time he saw a clock it was almost ten. He's just tired. Mundane technology is not that weird.</p>
<p>"No one seems to be complaining too much."</p>
<p>"I suppose. Though none of them are here alone. I think that is the key to all of this."</p>
<p>"Not alone?" Alec looks again. Sure enough, now that he is looking properly, everyone here has someone to be with. There are lots of couples, some small groups, and even at the back of the bar a large one that looks like a group of really good friends. "That's... lucky?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't believe there is much luck to do with any of this."</p>
<p>Magnus is no longer cursing at himself. Magnus is working through the puzzle that is this situation. Alec loves that look on his face.</p>
<p>"No?" Alec says because sometimes Magnus thinks best with a little prompting.</p>
<p>"There was a phrase I remember from the text, a word that I couldn't figure out the meaning of. I wonder," Magnus adds, though doesn't elaborate, only grabs a napkin from the holder on the bar beside them and starts to scribble something down.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Alex</strong>
</p>
<p>As Alex props his elbows on the edge of the bar, he rests more of his weight on one leg, easing the pressure on his stump. His prosthetic he has grown so used to that hours can pass before he realizes it's there, though normally he does make the effort to take the pressure off throughout the day anyway.</p>
<p>It was just after lunch when he and Michael landed in The Ship Inn, disoriented and fuzzy-headed with no clue what was happening. Hours have passed since then, and while most of them have been spent sitting, Alex is still trying to do his best not to cause himself extra pain tomorrow. These couple of minutes waiting for their drinks will need to be enough.</p>
<p>A man comes to stand beside him then, waving his hand in a gesture to the bartender that says, <em>when you're ready</em>. He gives Alex a half nod, his gaze dropping over him before he turns away. "Baghdad?"</p>
<p>Alex wishes he could explain why veterans can spot other veterans a mile off without either of them saying a word. His guess for the man stood beside him is at least two tours. There is always a certain look in their eyes that is a tell.</p>
<p>"Baghdad. Kuwait. Iraq. Other places. You?"</p>
<p>"Similar. Eddie," the man adds, turning enough to grasp his hand, and his gaze dropping again. "Prosthetic?"</p>
<p>"Alex. And, yes."</p>
<p>"Land mine?"</p>
<p>"IED."</p>
<p>Eddie screws his face up. "The worst."</p>
<p>"It wasn't my best day ever," Alex tells him, earning himself a rueful smile. Eddie is distracted, though, glancing over his shoulder between them. Alex can't not follow his gaze. And he can't not duck his head to hide his smile. The blond man at the table Eddie can't keep his eyes off is huge. And beautiful. And very much loved up.</p>
<p>"We're, uh, new," Eddie says, uninvited. "Also, not so new. It's been... I don't know what we've been. But we were something. <em>Are</em> something. This whole thing here shouldn't have been the thing to shove us at each other, but, well. I guess we need to get something good out of today?"</p>
<p>What is it about this place, this whole situation, that makes talking so easy? Alex and Michael have grown great at talking of late, but even they are feeling the openness of this bar. Alex thinks he should be more alarmed, or at least on alert for them being here out of nowhere, but a part of him is telling him there is nothing to worry about at all.</p>
<p>Alex turns, nodding at Michael sat at their table, who winks at him and makes Alex grin even from these few feet away. "We're not new. At all."</p>
<p>"No?"</p>
<p>"We had ten years when we did nothing but hurt each other. I wasn't here for most of them, but we still managed to. It's not all that bad," Alex adds because he needs to. He and Michael have had some beautiful moments over the years. It's just the hurt always used to linger longest. Alex is glad all those years are behind them.</p>
<p>"But it's all good now?"</p>
<p>"Everything is perfect." How are they even having this conversation?</p>
<p>"Well, good. I hope for that. I want that. I think we have it," Eddie adds, leaning in like him lowering his voice is necessary so his person won't hear him from so far away.</p>
<p>"Good." Alex's drinks are delivered then. He nods to Eddie, picks up his glasses, and makes his way back to Michael.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Magnus</strong>
</p>
<p>This man is an old soul. A very old soul, one worthy of speaking of centuries of history behind him. He doesn't look at all fazed by being dragged away from his life wherever that may be lived. Magnus assumes it is because he has no fear of running out of time.</p>
<p>Magnus' Italian is rusty, and he isn't even sure how they started their conversation. Alec wandered off to speak to a couple sat a few tables back from the bar, and is currently comparing runes with one of them. His new friend must think they are tattoos, Magnus thinks with an affectionate smile.</p>
<p>Magnus' new companion jabs him in the shoulder for not paying attention, then does the same with the napkin. It's no good; for every time the man talks and his voice gets higher for Magnus not understanding, all Magnus can make out are the words <em>inamorato</em>, and <em>inamorata</em>.</p>
<p>"Nicky. Stop teasing him."</p>
<p><em>Nicky's</em> face breaks into a smile that is like the clouds have parted and the sun is now out. He leans into the side of a man with kind eyes and a soft smile, turning his cheek for a kiss and covering the hand on his hip.</p>
<p>"My Italian is a little rusty," Magnus says, sure he should know it better for already being fluent in Spanish.</p>
<p>"And this word is not exactly what you mean," Nicky adds, conveniently speaking English now he has been prompted to.</p>
<p>"For me, this is—"</p>
<p>Magnus misses the man's answer for Nicky saying it for him, turning to gaze at his husband, judging by the rings, with the most adoring smile. Magnus thinks it was in Arabic, but can't be sure.</p>
<p>"This is soulmate," the man explains, looking back at Nicky with as much love as he taps over Magnus' napkin. "The word you mean is <em>soulmate</em>."</p>
<p>Soulmate. Of course. Magnus' mind races with the possibilities, already picking apart the problem that is this spell.</p>
<p>"Is this going to take long? We were in Malta. We like Malta," Nicky adds with a petulant pout that is very out of place on a man as old as Magnus thinks he is. Not that he is one to talk.</p>
<p>"I will deliver you personally to Malta as soon as I figure this out," Magnus promises him, reassured he doesn't have to explain he is a warlock, that this is his fault, or in fact, anything. As ancient as this couple seem, Magnus supposes nothing much must faze them. Though now isn't the time for musing over such things. Magnus flares his fingers down by his side, drawing on his magic. Now, he must get to work.</p>
<hr/>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Dean</strong>
</p>
<p>"So, what do you do?"</p>
<p>Dean hates this question. Usually, the lie comes easy, so used to playing a part when hunting that he can be an accountant in the morning, and a book store owner by mid-afternoon. Today Dean has nothing; mostly because the two guys who beat his and Cas' ass at pool earlier are firefighters. His number one job envy. What a life he might have lived if they had ever stayed in one place long enough for him to do that.</p>
<p>Though part of it is because of the person asking the question; tall, dark, and tattooed, with intense hazel eyes, about Sam's height, and unfairly attractive. Dean is good with acknowledging things like that these days. He just objects that he even thinks it about a Nephilim.</p>
<p>"Oh, you know. This and that. You?"</p>
<p>"What do I do?" Alec says, toying with the stem of a glass that is obviously some fancy, fruity cocktail of some kind. Why did Dean ever think drinking cocktails was emasculating? Nothing is <em>emasculating</em> about the way Alec is stroking that glass between his finger and thumb. Not that he's looking, obviously.</p>
<p>"Yeah. What do you do?"</p>
<p>Alec tilts his head, appearing to consider the question. Still playing with that damn glass. Dean sneaks a glance at Cas, who for some reason finds this entire situation hysterical. He loves that grin on his face, and if he were back at their table he would kiss it off. Though there are currently thick fingers taunting him about six inches away. Dean's brain can't take any of it.</p>
<p>"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I made jewelry?"</p>
<p>"Uh, no. I wouldn't." Though the wedding ring on Alec's finger is impressive; could Alec have made it himself? How would Dean know?</p>
<p>"Then. I'm a... soldier."</p>
<p>"A soldier," Dean repeats, and yes, he can picture it, actually. That shirt Alec is wearing is strained across his shoulders, and his neck is thick. Really thick. Solid. Dean needs to quit fixating on that.</p>
<p>"Sort of."</p>
<p>Cas said warrior, along with Nephilim. Dean's got a lot to get his head around today, and maybe this isn't a thing for him to think over now. So, sure, soldier; he'll go with that.</p>
<p>"So, uh. We're all here. And we don't know why we're here," Dean says, getting the bartender's attention and waving his beer bottle. He came up here for a reason. As much as he now isn't minding his and Cas' little detour, what he'd like is to go home.</p>
<p>Alex purses his lips together, looming and broody. "We're working on it."</p>
<p>"We?"</p>
<p>"Magnus and me."</p>
<p>The warlock, Dean thinks, catching a glimpse of <em>Magnus</em> talking at the other side of the bar and being very sure he isn't the kind of person he should try to gank. Not that he would; Magnus too is unfairly gorgeous. These two together, hell. Dean's brain is in overload enough to make him consider downing that frilly drink Alec keeps playing with in an attempt to clear his head.</p>
<p>"Can we, uh, help?"</p>
<p>"Who's <em>we</em>?" Alec says in a sarcastic tone with a smirk that Dean is not focusing on.</p>
<p>"Me. And Cas," Dean says, nodding at Cas. Cas is having an amazing time laughing at him silently, Dean is sure of it. He can see his crinkly eyes from all the way over here.</p>
<p>Alec turns to see where he's nodding, jolting just enough for Dean to catch, and his eyes narrowing. Without a word, Alec is then looking over at Magnus who is already looking up like he heard him speak. Together they look back at Cas, who, if anything, looks smug. Magnus' jaw visibly clicks in disapproval, and Alec looks... tense. Dean does not back away when Alec turns his gaze on him and glares, finally draining his glass.</p>
<p>"No. No, thank you."</p>
<p>"Are you sure? Because Cas and me, we've dealt with some stuff."</p>
<p>"Doing <em>this and that</em>?"</p>
<p>Sarcastic bastard. Dean loves it. And will not think on that either. "Yeah."</p>
<p>Alec smiles at him then, a real one, and somehow, that's even worse. "Like what?"</p>
<p>"Honestly. I don't know if you'd believe me."</p>
<p>"I can't imagine anything Mundane being all that exciting."</p>
<p>Mundane? Dean thinks, filled with indignation. "We came here from clearing a vamp nest. How's that for <em>mundane</em>?" Who's he kidding. He hates dealing with vamps.</p>
<p>"You kill vampires?" Alec says, his face falling in dismay. Dean did not see that coming.</p>
<p>"Yeah. Sometimes. When we need to."</p>
<p>"When you need to," Alec repeats, filled with disdain. "I have some vampire friends who would probably love to know why you think you need to kill them. Not friends, as such. People I know. I like them; they just don't need to know that."</p>
<p>That open-mouthed, talk-about-anything mood that Dean has felt ever since they showed up in this bar apparently has hit everyone. Including this Nephilim. Alec shifts the way he is standing, which makes Dean think his discomfort is with his own words.</p>
<p>"Anyway. What I'm saying is, if there's a way to get us all out of here quicker, and we can do something about that, then we're here."</p>
<p>"Thank you. That's... kind."</p>
<p>Dean wants to be offended that his and Cas' help isn't good enough. Though he also has no problem with not being the ones in charge for once. And besides, look at them, this warlock and Nephilim power couple supermodel catwalk walking wet dream. If anyone in this room can handle anything, it is them.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Magnus</strong>
</p>
<p>Magnus drains his drink, now ready to get this disaster of an evening unraveled. How he wants to be home in a steaming hot bath before toppling into bed. Though he also feels as though he might not sleep for days, so riled up by all that is happening that he doesn't know if he'll rest at all. Alec nods at him, giving Magnus that smile that says he believes he is capable of anything. How many times has Alec's confidence in him buoyed Magnus over the years?</p>
<p>With one final glance around him, Magnus pushes away from the bar, determined to get this thing over with as quickly as possible. He did debate explaining himself to all the people present, but wouldn't it be better all round if they could all just go?</p>
<p>Magnus pictures the offensive book whose pages are responsible for bringing them all here, then summons it with a snap of his fingers. He reads the text over, now understanding how things went so wrong. He ignores the outraged call of surprise to his side for a book appearing out of nowhere, knowing Alec will be there to hold back anyone trying to stop him.</p>
<p>Nicky calls out a helpful suggestion on pronunciation. Magnus does not glare back. He reads the words on the page again, conjuring magic from a depth within himself he hasn't tapped into in a while.</p>
<p>As he begins his chant, red magic crackles from his fingertips, whirling around his fingers and forming a shape almost like a heart. How <em>ironic</em>. He blasts the heart in front of him to make it bigger, and then wider, wincing for the portal then formed behind it.</p>
<p>"Hold on," he calls to Alec, glad to see him wrap his hand tight around the bar edge as The Ship Inn erupts in yells of surprise. Nicky and Joe yawn and stretch, unfazed by anything, even walking through the portal unaided before it can pull them through. Another eruption of noises reaches Magnus' ears, though he is grounded because Alec is with him, curling an arm secure around him from behind. Magnus watches, trying not to be distracted by all the people at the tables around them being pulled across the room and sucked into the portal. He wants to tell them all it's far easier if they don't resist, but this is surely the weirdest thing any of them has ever experienced. There isn't really time to explain.</p>
<p>When the last couple is through, which is a man and a woman draped only in towels that are thankfully not yanked from their bodies, Magnus turns his head, telling Alec it is their turn to leave.</p>
<p>"Home?" Alec asks, kissing Magnus' shoulder before standing by his side.</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't know. Alexander. How would you feel about a vacation in Malta?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Alec</strong>
</p>
<p>"So, everyone in that bar. Every couple, and group, and that one person on his own; they were all soulmates?" Alec asks, even if Magnus has explained this to him twice already.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"And you're telling me, that every soulmate couple, or group, or whatever, every single one of them in the whole world, fit into that room?"</p>
<p>Alec is fine with the portal, the idea of soulmates, and even the randomness of them all being sucked into that bar. He's okay with no one complaining, how everyone present had seemed freer to talk, and was even impressed with all the alcohol they had on tap. Though the idea of so few people in the entire world having those that are meant only for them, that's a hard one to understand; is finding your person really so difficult to do?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Magnus tells him, adjusting how he's laid out on the sun lounger by Alec's side. "Soulmates are rare, and special. I am surprised, almost, that there were so many with us."</p>
<p>Alec goes over Magnus' words, raising his head just enough to take a sip of his cocktail, pausing to enjoy the view of Magnus in nothing but swimming shorts. Dark purple ones. Alec is sure Magnus would call the color something like <em>plum</em>. Beyond where they are laid further down the beach is busier, some sunbathing like he and Magnus are doing, others playing volleyball, and more just walking, with or without dogs. The water isn't as busy as Alec had expected, though he also isn't surprised. Magnus always takes them to places that are a little more elaborate and elite. It gives Alec the perfect excuse to tease him about being a snob, just so he can kiss the pout off his face.</p>
<p>The news that he and Magnus are soulmates is not really news at all. Alec likes it, though, humbled that out of all the people in the world, he has truly found the one love of his life. Forever. There is no one who is as lucky as him.</p>
<p>"I wonder what they'll all say about last night," Alec muses out loud, reaching out and resting the back of his hand on Magnus' stomach.</p>
<p>Magnus takes his hand, squeezing his wedding ring, before slotting their fingers together so he can raise his hand to kiss the back of. "I would imagine, that as Mundane, they will find a way to rationalize themselves out of the experience. Or deny it happened altogether."</p>
<p>"One more reason why being a Mundane sounds like the most boring of existences, ever."</p>
<p>"<em>Snob</em>."</p>
<p>Alec grins, squeezing his fingers when Magnus turns his head to smile. "For some things."</p>
<p>"Such as?"</p>
<p>"Imagine being taken through a portal—something you didn't even know existed—being taken to a random bar in the middle of nowhere, and then being sent back again. And not questioning any of it." Alec can't get his head around it. How can all those people forget the power Magnus has to summon them and then send them away again in an instant? Even if he never intended to?</p>
<p>"I'd rather imagine my husband taking a vacation at short notice much to the chagrin of his superiors. That, by far, is harder to believe."</p>
<p>Alec grins for his own teasing, dragging Magnus' hand across to rest against his thigh. "They'll be fine. Not like we can't portal back if Clary touches something she shouldn't again."</p>
<p>"Or Jace."</p>
<p>"Absolutely Jace."</p>
<p>"One day, when we have our own children and no time to babysit them all, imagine all the mischief they will cause."</p>
<p>Alec groans just for thinking about it, though does indulge in a few happy seconds of picturing him and Magnus with kids. He can't wait for that. "All of it, I think."</p>
<p>"Well, when—"</p>
<p>Magnus is cut off by a loud clearing of throat, both of them turning their heads at the same time. A couple is looking at them, one dark-haired and bearded, the other dirty blond and behind sunglasses. They are hand in hand, similarly dressed to Alec and Magnus, and look ridiculously in love.</p>
<p>"Any more of those drinks?" the blond one asks, nodding at their glasses.</p>
<p>Magnus sits up, snapping his fingers for two more chairs, apparently uncaring if anyone sees. As the couple sits he snaps his fingers again for more cocktails, which is Alec's cue to sit up as well.</p>
<p>"Alexander. I'd like you to meet two people who are even older than I am."</p>
<p>Warlocks? Alec thinks, though is certain they aren't. He knows they are soulmates. He doesn't need to remember them from The Ship Inn to know that; just look at them.</p>
<p>With the backdrop of a beautiful beach in the glorious afternoon sun, Alec learns about other kinds of immortals, wondering what his life will look like when he is one.</p>
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